gods among wolves
by saltzmans
Summary: He was the heartless man who felt too much. –grahamcentric


**notes **| well, i just finished season one of once upon a time and i am having graham feels so this kind of happened...

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**i**

Running with the wolves never left much room for feeling. Of course, the Huntsman did feel _emotion_. He felt the primal protection for his pack; the freedom of the forest running through his veins; the predatory thrill that cruises through him as he runs against the prey. But aside from that–aside from that all he ever feels is emptiness.

He's intrigued when the Queen calls for him, as he makes his way to the palace, his mind is a turmoil of thoughts–what could someone as prestigious, as well known for her dark deeds as Queen Regina, want with a huntsman with a wolfish instinct like him? Thinking about it, sends chills down his spine. There's something off with the whole mission. But then, he was never one to believe in such groundless delusions.

Wolves have no place with superstitions.

But he should have believed the feeling–he should have thought before jumping into a plot intricately spun by someone like the Queen–because before he knows it the Huntsman is running through the forest and he can _smell _her fear. He can smell the terror floating off her in tendrils. He knows that if–when–he catches up with her, he could shoot an arrow right through her heart and that would be the end of it. He could kill Snow White without a seconds thought.

Because that is what a wolf would do.

A wolf wouldn't pause before lunging. Wolves are predators, after all. But then he finds her, sitting in the middle of a glade and the emotions reeling of her knock him backwards and all the Huntsman can think of is, _what do wolves know of honour? _

In the end he spares her. He watches her run into the woods, far, far away from the Queen and the fate which had been carefully laid out for her. He plans to kill a deer, present it to the Queen and then leave the whole morbid affair behind him. His arrow pierces the deer on the first shot, and for some reason the Huntsman doesn't feel the usual raptorial tremor as he slits the writhing creatures neck.

All he feels is pity.

After that everything goes from bad from worse. The Queen sees right through his stupid, heart driven plan and all he sees is black as she rips out his heart. He's left, a shivering shell of a being–not wolf, not even human anymore–and slowly all his emotions begin to turn, he sinks on in himself, walls sliding up around him until all he has left is rage.

He becomes the Queen's toy. He's nothing but a soft toy-wolf-man, tossed around from four poster bed to four poster bed. He marks worthless kisses down her neck; runs his icy hands across her body; he lets her run her fingers through his hair and leave bites across his chest. He lets her use him and tries not to feel a thing.

**ii**

When the curse comes–sweeping across the Enchanted Forest, a mist devouring everything in it's path–the Huntsman stands on the balcony of the Palace. He stands and he doesn't join the panicked civilians running through the streets. Instead, he just stands. He stands and he watches and hopes that perhaps this will let him be free again.

**iii**

In the end the Huntsman–Graham, now–doesn't know if the curse is for better of for worse. He's Sheriff now and at least he has some degree of respect from the people around but even that doesn't seem to make up for the icy grip Regina still holds around him. His lips still burn every night from the kisses she leaves and the place where his heart should be is still empty and cold.

Graham tries to break away–at least here he has no memory of the heart Regina is holding over his head–but it's harder than that. He's drawn to her. To the things she makes him feel. Only when they're wrapped in each other's frozen embrace does he start to feel the stone in his veins begin to crack and the ice in his heart begin to warm.

When Emma arrives in town–in a whirl of blonde hair and a sardonic smirk which he just can't help being intrigued by–something stirs inside Graham. For the first time, out of the clutches of Regina, Graham is beginning to feel something. When he arrests her–for the first time, that is–he can't help admiring her. She's brave and cynical and there's something refreshing about the way she looks about him.

Perhaps it's because she's the only one in the whole fucking town who doesn't know what a goddamn tool he's become.

As it goes on, Emma becomes a sort of narcotic. She's the first breath of fresh air Graham's had in is prison for a long time and he can't seem to get enough of her. He inhales everything about her–her sense of down to earth realism mixed with her wild bravery–until he's completely lost in her.

Regina hates Emma; of course she does. She hates the way that the whole town seems to be drawn to her; everything Regina had come to call her own–Henry, Graham, even Gold–seem to be intrigued by Emma Swan and all Regina can think about is how everything seems to be slipping out of her grasp.

So she does the natural thing–she holds on tighter. Her "meetings" with Graham become more frequent and despite his attachment to Emma, he goes along with it. His nights are a wild frenzy of sex and longing and _forgetting_. Graham can forget Emma, he can forget his problems, he can forget that odd, nagging feeling at the back of his brain that _something _isn't right.

When Emma spots him sneaking out of Regina's house, it should have been the perfect sign that whatever fucked up little arrangement he had going on should be stopped. But instead it just makes him want more–why can no one understand that he all he wants is to forget?

One night Graham decides to get drunk and things just go downhill from there. As always, the alcohol goes straight to his head. His mind spins with pictures–memories?–of wolves and honour and a girl with black hair who had eyes just like Emma.

Emma. Emma who is standing by the door of Granny's Diner looking at him with a face filled with disgust and was that–at the back of the scornful exterior–a hint of pity? He can't stand it. So, Graham does what's natural. He throws a dart at the space above her head. Emma's eyes flash and before Graham's whiskey-ridden mind can appreciate what's happened, the door is open and surrounded by people, Graham is alone as ever.

Graham finds her on the street and words are tumbling out of his mouth, and he's not even fully aware of what he's saying–he hopes it's something wonderfully poetic, but even he's not drunk enough to think that's true. Then, before he knows it, he's kissing her and Graham can't even appreciate the taste of her lips or the warmth of her body because before he knows it he's sucked under in a void of memories.

He sees wolves and arrows and honour and girls with kind eyes and queen's with devastating smiles. And then as soon as it started, it's over. Emma's gone–the only reminder that she's ever been there, a taste of regret on his lips.

Graham goes to Regina–who else to fill the gaps but the woman who creates ice at her finger tips? She kisses him but this time it doesn't relieve any of the pain. Instead the gap in his heart grows greater and the longing for someone who isn't the woman lying next to him expands, and before Graham knows it, he's running.

He's running with the wolves again and there's the edge of the taste of freedom at the tip of his tongue, and Graham thinks that there's _something _he should be looking for but it's just out of his reach. Eventually he runs himself out and he collapses against a tree, blood pounding in his ears. Something. There's something he needs to understand but–

"Graham?"

His sense spark at the sound of his name, and there she is, running towards him, worry etched across her face. She's grabbing his shoulders–murmuring about _helping _him and that _everything is going to be okay_–but all Graham can concentrate on are the memories flooding back and then–then it all makes sense and words are flowing out of his mouth again but this time they all make sense.

The Curse. The Queen. The Saviour. The Wolves.

His hands are grasping at Emma, trying to tell her–trying to make her understand–but all he can see is that fucking _pity _and it's driving him crazy. He's dragging her to the crypt–everything's blurred, nothing makes sense but at the same time everything does. He's searching the tomb–noise whirling around him–he can find it, he has to find it.

Then Regina's there and no–no. This isn't how it's meant to be. Emma's guiding him out. _It's okay everything's fine. _But it's not–she's got his heart–she's going to kill him. He tries to tell Emma but his words are messy and tumbling across his tongue. She's reassuring him and her presence seems to calm him; washing over him like the tide on the beach by the Enchanted Forest. No.

"Hey," Emma whispers. "Everything's okay now."

And then they're kissing again but now Graham can savour everything–the taste of her lips; the feel of her arms around him. It's kind of beautiful and he can begin the hear the wind rustling in the leaves of the forest, and the smell of the sea and it's the best kind of perfect and Graham thinks he could spend eternity in Emma's arms but then–

Something is tightening around his heart. His very life is being squeezed out of him and all he can see around the iron being pressed through is ribs, is Emma's face, dancing in and out of focus, until–

**iv.**

Everything is dark and pressing down around him but Graham doesn't really mind because finally the forest is back in his veins, in his heart, in his being and the Huntsman is finally free.

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_please don't favourite without leaving a review!_


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